


Familiar Face of a Stranger

by Lion_owl



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, I'm Sorry, I've no idea what the awards are actually for but it isn't plot-relevant so just go with it, Introspection, Metacrisis Doc goes by John Noble and they/them pronouns, Oops, Other, References to serial 54: Inferno, Rose is a wonderful friend though, They/Them pronouns for the Doctor, mention of all canon Jackie/Pete permutations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:42:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27533200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lion_owl/pseuds/Lion_owl
Summary: Rose is nominated for an award and John attends the ceremony with her. While there, they come across someone who is all at once a complete stranger and yet very, very familiar.
Relationships: Metacrisis Tenth Doctor & Rose Tyler, The Doctor (Doctor Who)/Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	Familiar Face of a Stranger

“Only one more category,” Rose whispers, as the presenter takes to the stage once more. Her second-place trophy glittering in pride of place, on the table in front of her. After the presentations there is a buffet, and Rose had commented earlier that she should have had a bigger lunch.

And John will admit the ceremony is starting to drag on a bit. As proud as they are of Rose, they'll be relieved when it all draws to a close.

The list of nominees was so long, they didn't get to page five – the last page – when they scanned through the programme; they stopped reading after they found where it said 'Rose Tyler'. Had they done, they would have found the ceremony dragging out even longer from the trepidation that one name in particular would have caused them.

As it stands, they are in for quite the shock, any moment now.

Trapped in this universe, it's a name they never expected to ever hear again. Outwith the privacy of their own thoughts, that is.

The presenter reads it out, and in an instant, the world around John slows to a complete standstill… they're frozen, unable to calm the hammering in their chest as they watch, transfixed, as someone they _knew_ they were never going to see again, walks up onto the stage.

They still haven't seen him again, of course. That isn't him, that's the result of a quirk of the cosmos that most people will only witness through science-fiction: the alternate universe doppelgänger.

A man whose name is announced as Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart – and John wonders if his middle name is Gordon in this universe also – a man who both looks and sounds like Alistair too, but to John's mind cannot be, accepts a trophy and moves to the microphone to say a few words.

But they all blur together along with everything else: what's being said on stage, the audience clapping, Rose asking them if they're okay; it's all a background whine, and as soon as people start getting up from their chairs to mill around, marking the end of the ceremony, John gets up too and lets their feet carry them out of the room, down the hallway and out the back door of the community centre, out into the fresh air, leaning against the exterior wall and reminding themself to breathe.

When their head stops spinning, they make their way back inside. Rose is standing in the hallway with a concerned expression, and walks straight towards them as soon as she spots them.

“Are you okay?” she asks again.

“Yeah, fine,” they lie. “Just… needed some air.”

She doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t press the matter, taking them by the arm and leading them back inside the room, where the buffet table is nearly full and a group of waiters are busy organising it.

John quickly notices him again in the crowd, is captivated by the sight of him, is drawn towards him.

“What are you doing?” Rose asks, following their gaze. “Do you know him?

They’re about to say ‘ _sort of_ ,’ but Rose is from another universe too, she saw this happen to Pete and Jackie, she might work it out. “I just want to have a quick word, that’s all,” they say, making their way to where he is standing talking to a group of other people John couldn’t name. The circle automatically widens to include them.

“Lethbridge-Stewart?” they say when the conversation lulls. Because _their_ Alistair always preferred to use surnames in all but the most informal of circumstances, and it feels wrong to John for them to extend to this stranger, the same intimacy Alistair granted them.

“Yes?” he says.

“I…” John falters. “Congratulations on your win.”

“Oh, thank you,” he says. He smiles, and it’s friendly, but it’s formal, and has no recognition in it – not that there would be. “Mr…?”

“John Noble,” they say.

“Well thank you, John,” he says, and then turns to the woman next to him. “Oh, Janet, while I remember: I have your boxes in the car, don’t forget to collect them before you leave.”

And the conversation moves on, leaving John feeling hollow, but despite how much this hurts, they cannot quite drag themself away.

This isn’t even the first time this has happened to them, John thinks, remembering back to that awful drilling project and that parallel universe the Doctor accidentally ended up in, and what a despicable character _he_ had been – it had been _quite_ unnerving; and such a relief to get back from that place.

At least this ‘Pete’s World’ Lethbridge-Stewart seems to be a genuinely warm and kind person, like his N-Space counterpart, with whom John suspects he has vastly more in common than with the Brigade Leader.

But that’s a small comfort, because at the end of the day, it doesn’t make him any more the actual N-Space Alistair; any more the man the Doctor married, and loves deeply. The man John loves deeply. Because they’re not the Doctor any more, but they used to be – and still have all their memories, and still care about all the people the Doctor cares about.

 _This_ Lethbridge-Stewart is as much a stranger to John as John is to him, they think, as they walk over to the buffet table where Rose is already heaping her plate. To them, he is just a shadow, and John will never see their own Alistair again.

They wonder how Alistair would have reacted to them, had they ever had a chance to meet. He would likely take the concept of Metacrisis in his stride, like he always takes things in his stride even if he doesn’t fully understand them. But he would also sense crystal clear as day, the Doctor’s discomfort with John’s existence, and probably be sympathetic to that.

In a different way, _John_ would be just a shadow to _him_.

Because that’s the real reason the Doctor stranded them here, isn’t it. Not all that twaddle about genocide – the Doctor understands as well as John does that to let even one Dalek escape is to condone innumerable genocides, to the point that perhaps ‘omnicide’ might actually be a more fitting word – no, the Doctor left John behind because they didn’t like the idea of an almost-exact copy of themself running around their universe. But John can hardly blame them for that: were their positions reversed, they’d have done exactly the same thing.

It’s something of a relief to know that despite John’s own sense of loss, at least they still have each other: the Doctor and the Brigadier.

For the time being, anyway… they’re also acutely aware of the fact that Alistair isn’t getting any younger. Not that John will find out when – well. Better not to think about it at all.

“I did know him,” they admit to Rose, once the two of them are re-seated at their table, plates piled high. “Not _him_ specifically, but, well, you know how it is with universe-hopping.”

“Ah,” Rose says. “Yeah, I do know. It’s bizarre. You knew the other him well, then?”

“Extremely well, he’s the Doctor’s husband,” John says. They glance across the room to his table. “But _he_ isn’t mine.”

“Well, not yet,” she says, patting their arm. “Say something to him. You have to start somewhere. Although possibly he’s a little old for you.”

“He’s much younger than me – all of you are,” they remind her. “Oh, but you should have seen him back in the day, Rose. You should have seen him.”

They close their eyes, letting themselves get lost in the memories for a moment.

“Maybe not at the dinner table, John?” Rose suggests firmly.

“Right,” they say. “Well all that aside, mine – the Doctor’s one… I love him… but the other one, I… I can’t.”

“It worked out well for my parents,” she points out. “You never know.”

“It’s different. Your parents found each other in both universes, and they both lost each other. He’s never seen me before in his life.”

“Are you sure? Maybe he just didn’t recognise you,” she gestures to her face, drawing an oval in the air. “You know, because of regeneration, and all that.”

“Not with Alistair. He always recognises the Doctor.” John says, lowering their voice because this conversation is going to start sounding a bit barmy to any eavesdroppers. “But more than that, I’m certain because I don’t have a counterpart here. I mean, technically _I_ am now the counterpart here. Gallifrey existed on a slightly shifted dimensional plane. Made us somewhat unique in the universe.”

“Not to brag or anything,” she teases.

“It’s true though.” They shrugs. “I’m aware of how pompous it sounds. That’s Timelords for you. But I–” they choke up, and put down their cutlery, closing their eyes against the tears that threaten to escape them. Last thing they want is to cause a scene.

Rose puts a hand on their back, rubbing gentle circles. “We can leave if you like,” she says.

“No, we agreed to stay until the end,” they say. “I’ll be okay in a moment. They still have each other, and that’s what matters.”

“You matter,” she says, resting her head on their shoulder and pulling them into a sideways hug.

“I can’t get back to him,” they say, hugging her back. “I miss him terribly, and I shan’t ever want another – not even a doppelgänger, tonight has proved that if ever it was in doubt. But I have lifetimes of memories to cherish.” When the prickling stops, they sit up again, refilling both their champagne flutes from the bottle on the table. “And I have the wonderful Tyler family.”

“You’re part of the Tyler family,” she says, raising her glass. “Cheers.”

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are always appreciated!!!


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